


Timeless

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, First Times, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting caught in an earthquake, Simon learns something new about his best team.  Jim's patience finally pays off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timeless

## Timeless

#### by OCONN

  
not mine, you know the drill. these days I'm making money through hard work.  
First appeared in Whispers Of The Heart 4.  
evil!William and glimpses of child abuse.  
This story is a sequel to: 

* * *

Timeless Love  
By OCONN  
July 2000 

The day started out great, as most days that change a person markedly, often do. The sky was a brilliant and near cloudless blue, the sun was warm and whole heartedly welcome. Yes, it was a special day. Today was Jim's birthday and a line that Blair had firmly drawn in the sand was about to be crossed. 

Blair looked up as the bell over the door of the jewelry store rang. He was relieved to see that Simon had found the small shop, which was hidden on the downstairs level of the old market. 

"Oh man, Simon. I'm glad you're here." Blair took his friend by the sleeve and pulled him over to a glass case and pointed. 

"Well?" 

Simon leaned over the case and stared at the object in question. It was huge and on the face were several fancy dials, whose purpose Simon could only guess. 

"That is one hell of a watch, Blair," he said seriously. 

"Yeah," was all Blair had to say. 

Simon watched the man whose gaze was glued to the display. He seemed nervous but there was a current of something else running underneath. It was like lightning, thunder, and a perfect Maui sunset all rolled into one and it lit up the evening sky like high noon. Well, Simon thought to himself, I guess this is it. 

"It's big," he continued, just to be sure. 

"Yes." 

"Expensive, too." 

"Yeah." 

"Why a watch, Blair?" Simon asked, studying the young man carefully. 

Blair turned serious, steady eyes in his direction and spoke quietly and firmly. "Because it's a symbol. Because it's time." 

The look on Blair's face was exactly the one Simon wanted to see on the person who would love Jim Ellison like he deserved. He softened his expression and smiled at his friend. 

"Yes it is, Blair." 

The smile that spread across Sandburg's face was brilliant and suddenly Simon could understand Jim's desires and his relentless pursuit over the past year. He smiled back and stuck out his hand in congratulations. Blair took it, shaking it vigorously, that silly smile still pasted on his face. And suddenly Simon couldn't help himself. He pulled Sandburg into a fierce, back slapping, happy hug. 

"Thanks, Simon. I can't tell you how much this means to me." 

"He'll take it," Simon announced proudly to the salesman who had been patiently standing by. 

"Definitely," agreed the younger man. 

The man behind the counter gave them a quick, odd look before retrieving the chosen piece, but he didn't say anything. And Simon was thinking that was a good thing because he didn't want to ruin this long awaited moment by getting violent with some skinny, homophobe. As the clerk closed the case, the floor shuddered and the glass rattled. 

"What was that?" Blair asked, reaching out to steady himself on Simon's arm. 

"Felt like a tremor." 

"Pretty strong tremor, Simon," Blair responded. 

"Well, yes. But..." 

Simon's words were cut off by the rumbling and shaking of an ancient building in the throes of a full-fledged earthquake. He flipped his arm around, grabbed Blair by the shoulder, and shoved him toward the door. 

"Out, Sandburg. Now!" 

They took off at top speed and managed to make it halfway to the door when they heard the first crash and subsequent scream. Blair twisted out of Simon's grasp and ran back the way they'd come. 

"Sandburg!" Banks yelled. 

"Someone needs help, Simon. I've got to go back," he yelled back as he ran. 

Shit! Jim is going to kill me if anything happens to the kid, he thought as he ran after him. He was only five feet away when it happened. Blair reached a hysterical woman and pushed her toward the door. She ran and didn't look back. Unfortunately, Blair took the time to check for others and was caught by the collapsing roof. 

"Sandburg!" Simon screamed. 

The rumbling and shaking seemed to go on forever. The lights went out in a flash of sparks, plaster crumbled, glass shattered, and the beams cracked and fell. When the dust settled, Blair was nowhere to be seen. 

"Blair," Simon called, frantically pushing aside rubble as he searched for his friend. "Blair, where are you?" 

A painful moan emanated from under a sheet of plaster and Simon flipped over the debris-covered board to find the young man trapped beneath a fallen beam. 

"Shit!" He fell to his knees, hands scrabbling uselessly for purchase on the fallen iron. Looking around frantically, he spied the store clerk huddling in the back, near what had once been the office. 

"Hey, I need help over here!" 

The clerk violently shook his head and refused to move. "Damn it! He needs help, get over here." 

The man covered his ears and buried his face on his knees. Simon stood and rushed over, grabbed the frightened man by his collar and jerked him up. 

"You will help me," he ordered in his most dangerous voice. The man opened his mouth to protest and shut it again upon seeing Simon's murderous look. 

"O...O...Okay," he stuttered as he was dragged to where the trapped man lay. 

"Simon?" Blair asked in a weak and labored voice. 

"I'm here, kid," he said, releasing the clerk and dropping to Blair's side. 

"Well," Blair tried to laugh. "I guess I'm going to be late for dinner. Aw man. I hurt." 

Simon turned to the clerk as he stood and asked "What's your, name, son?" 

"Dave, sir." 

"Okay, Dave. Let's try to get this beam off his legs." They each grabbed whatever purchase was available and tried several times to lift the beam, but it wouldn't budge. 

"Blair, it's too heavy. We're going to have to try something else." 

"Simon? Where's Jim? I need Jim, Simon," he rasped, his voice full of pain. 

The big, burly police captain felt like crying but he swallowed around the lump in his throat as best he could and answered, "I know you do. He isn't far away. I'll bet he knows exactly what happened and where to look for you. He always does." 

"He always rescues me. Ever since that first time. Kip was going to hurt me and Jim stopped him," Blair mumbled in a pain-laced voice. 

* * *

The boy sat on the front porch of Darren's house, watching the teenagers playing ball in the street. They came here every afternoon, and every afternoon he sat and watched. Even though they seemed to be the only kids around, he stayed away from them. His experiences in the last town made the normally outgoing 8-year-old cautious. 

Looking back, he had to say it was his fault. He was the one who had turned the corner in the store and saw the two bullies stealing a pack of cigarettes from Mr. Hardy. It wasn't their fault they thought he'd squeal on them and so they had to chase him; they really didn't know him all that well. And it wasn't their fault he made a mad dash through the hedges, tearing his new jeans as he tried to get away from them. Most of all, it wasn't their fault they were frightening 12-year-old bullies who chased a scared kid into the high branches. He was the one who scrambled up into the tree. Mrs. Danbush had warned him many times that it was old and dead, that it was weak. And it certainly wasn't their fault that he'd broken his arm when he fell. 

Some people would say the boy wasn't too bright; he'd heard that more than once. But he knew better. And if someone had taken the time to get to know him, they would have discovered that he was a very special boy. Unfortunately no one ever took the time. 

"Maybe this place will be better," he mumbled to himself as he tried to scratch the itch just out of reach beneath the cast on his arm. 

"Heads up!" someone yelled. 

Blair instinctively rolled to cover his arm and just missed getting slammed in the head by a football. 

"Hey kid, you OK?" a gentle voice asked. 

Before he could answer, another voice, one that made him want to crawl under a rock and hide until his mom was ready to move again, said "Guys, come'ere. Look at this, the kid's scared to death!" 

"Kip, don't," said the first boy. "Leave him alone." 

"Come on, Jimmy. We're not going to hurt him. We just want to have a little fun." 

"Fine, but I'm outta here." 

Blair felt like crying. He was about to get beat up again, he just knew it from the sound of the voices; it was a sound he was very familiar with. And the pain in his arm was still too fresh. 

"Hey boy. What's the matter? You scared of a little ball?" the boy named Kip teased. 

For an instant Blair considered his chances of getting to the front door before the others caught him, but one look at the blond, muscled teen and he reconsidered. 

"Look, Randy, he's a girl!" 

"No way, Kip. He's a hippie like his mama." 

"That true, girlie?" Kip sneered. 

When Blair didn't move, another boy laughed. "Probably gonna cry now, just like a girl." 

He tried to control his sniffles, and even though he was scared and his arm hurt and he hated being the new kid, he was being pushed too far this time. He sat up quickly and wiped his runny nose and eyes on his sleeve. 

"Leave me alone!" he snarled. "Get off my porch before Darren gets home." 

"Ooh, hide me, Randy. He's scaring me," Kip teased. 

The older boys laughed and that was finally more than he could stand. He didn't care if he got killed; if he was dead then no one could hurt him anymore. Blair felt his hand curl into a fist and he surged to his feet. He swung as hard as he could, aiming directly for Kip's face. Not realizing that he had closed his eyes, he was startled to find that his hand made contact with something soft instead of the expected hard jaw. 

+++ 

"Blair!" 

The urgent words made their way through the gratifyingly numbing haze. 

"Sandburg, come on. You've got to stay with me." 

"Yeah, I'm here, Simon," the man acknowledged. "It hurts, Captain." 

"I know it does, kid. Just hang on. We'll be out of here soon." 

Blair leaned further into the lap his upper body rested on. He was losing much of the feeling below his waist but he could still wiggle the toes on his left foot. Surely that had to be a good sign. 

"Can you hear anything?" 

Simon strained to pick up anything that would indicate they would be out of the crumbled building sometime soon but couldn't pick up anything. He wished for Jim's hearing, just this once, because he desperately needed to give the younger man some hope. 

"Sorry, Sandburg." 

"Jim's coming, sir. Don't worry," he breathed out roughly. 

"Of course he is, Blair," the older man soothed as he wriggled out from under Blair's head. 

"All right, let's try it one more time," Simon told Dave, who sat staring at the blood slowly dripping from a cut on Blair's leg. 

The two trapped men tried to lever the fallen beam off his legs but Blair only screamed "Nooo!" 

"Blair, take it easy. We're just trying to get this off your legs before it's too late to save them," Banks said gently. 

"OK that's, enough," Banks told the clerk when Sandburg continued to scream. The man looked at him questionably but he just shook his head. "Let it be for now." 

"Talk to me, Simon," Blair pleaded, reaching out to grab onto one of his hands. 

Simon settled Blair in his lap once again and replied "Tell me about you and Jimmy, about the first time he rescued you." 

"Helicopter...Kincaid. You were there, Simon," he mumbled. 

That wasn't the answer he wanted, but Blair was too out of it to understand. He wasn't aware that his mind's delirious ramblings had formed into spoken words, of that Simon was certain, but they seemed so real. Simon wanted to hear more and if it kept the kid talking, well that could only help, couldn't it? 

"What about Jimmy? Tell me what happened after Kip left." 

"Kip. What a creep." Blair shuddered and tried to laugh, but hissed in pain at the movements. 

+++ 

"Easy there, Rocky," the gentle voice teased as he pushed Blair's small hand down. 

Blair opened his eyes as his rescuer turned to his friends and said, "Knock it off, guys. He's just a kid." 

"Lighten up, Jimmy. We aren't going to hurt him," Randy replied. 

"Back off, guys." 

Jimmy's face was calm but young Blair knew what that tone of voice could mean. He'd heard it too many times before from too many adults. After a few seconds Kip decided to give in. Boy was Blair glad when he did. 

"He ain't worth it. Come on guys, let's get out of here. See ya later, Jimmy," he sneered as they jogged away. 

"Yeah, have fun baby-sitting!" the third boy yelled. 

Jimmy sat on the step next to the kid and asked for the second time that day, "Are you OK?" 

"Yeah, those guys don't scare me." 

Jimmy laughed and ruffled the boy's hair. "I can tell. You're a pretty tough little kid." 

Blair angrily batted away Jimmy's hand and scowled. 

"I'm not little. I'm almost nine!" 

Jimmy swallowed a chuckle and tried to look serious. "Sorry, my mistake." 

They both got quiet and the older boy watched the kid try to scratch beneath the cast. 

"What happened to your arm?" 

"I crashed my dirt bike." 

Jimmy noticed the hint of a question in the young voice and knew he was lying, but for some reason he didn't want to call him on it. Instead, he indulged the kid. 

"You have a dirt bike? Cool. What kind?" 

"Red," was the instantaneous answer. 

Jimmy tried not to laugh. 

"Nice. Red's my favorite color. I used to have a Ten-speed that was red. What kind of motorcycle is it?" 

The boy ducked his head and picked at the patch covering one knee of his jeans. 

"Uh, Honda." 

"That's good," Jimmy replied indulgently. "How big is it?" 

"What's wrong, don't you believe me?" 

"Sure I do, I was just asking. What's your name, anyway? I mean, if you don't want me calling you "kid" from now on, I have to call you something." 

"It's Blair." 

"OK, Blair. I'm Jimmy." 

Blair looked down at the patch again and Jimmy took the opportunity to study him. He was small, but not too much for an 8-year-old, he supposed. His long, curly hair, which was out of place on the boys in this town, fit him perfectly. Without realizing what he was doing, the teen picked up a curl and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, then tugged on it. Blair jerked away and Jimmy had to laugh. 

"Sorry, it's just that your hair's pretty cool. My dad would never let me grow mine this long," Jimmy said, suddenly frowning, then dropping his hand to pluck a blade of grass that grew between the porch steps. 

Blair looked at the older boy who was suddenly so sad and he couldn't help but try to make him feel better. 

"I don't have a dad," he said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder. At Jim's confused look, he explained. "Darren's my mom's boyfriend." 

The older boy smiled, grateful for what he knew was Blair's effort to cheer him up. "You can have mine," he joked. 

That made Blair smile. It was beautiful and mischievous and bright, and though he didn't know it for what it was at the time, Jimmy fell in love. 

+++ 

Simon looked at his watch and shook his head. Damn, it had been almost half an hour and they hadn't heard a sound from anyone outside. Blair was moaning off and on and he felt warm. Simon thought about their situation. The good news was the rumblings and tremors finally stopped. The bad news was that several surreptitious pokes against Blair's right leg had failed to elicit any response. 

"Blair?" he asked gently. "How are you doing?" 

"Not so good, sir," the young man answered after a moment. "Where's Jim? I need Jim, Simon." 

"I know you do. He isn't far away. I'll bet he knows exactly where to look for you. He always does." 

"Yes," he hissed as a pain shot up his back. "He needs me." 

+++ 

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to go, Sweetie? We'll stop for ice cream." 

"Blair stared out the living room window, watching for his friend. "No mom, I'm waiting for Jimmy." 

"Mitzi's son is eight, too. Wouldn't you like to meet him? I'm sure you'd like him and you'd have someone your age to play with." 

"Uh-uh. Jimmy's so cool. He likes football and he likes to ride bikes and go fishing. Oh, and he thinks my hair is cool. His dad won't let him have his long." He paused for a moment and frowned. "I think his dad is really mean to him." 

"Blair!" his mom scolded. "We don't talk about people like that." 

"Sorry," he replied, turning to give his mom his best 'I'm properly scolded' face. When he turned back to the window, he saw his friend coming out of his front door. He frowned again as he watched Jimmy slam the door and saw that his expression was angry. 

"Oh no," he screeched as he jumped up and ran to the front door. Blair threw open the door and dashed down the steps. 

"Hi Jimmy!" Blair yelled to the boy crossing the street. 

"Hi Blair!" Jimmy waved, his face suddenly brightening. "Want to go to the lake?" 

"Sure," Blair grinned. "Bye Mom!" he called out as he ran after the older boy. 

They walked around the corner and started down the trail leading to the lake. Blair talked endlessly and Jimmy walked along silently beside him. Thirty minutes later, they'd reached their favorite spot: a quiet cove with a tiny sand strip and big boulders lining the edge of the trees. 

"Want to swim?" Blair asked enthusiastically. 

"Sounds good, Blair, but what about your cast? Did you bring something to cover it?" 

"Oh, okay." He thought for a minute, his face screwed up in concentration. "Hey, we could look for tadpoles." 

"You go ahead. I'll watch." Jimmy sat on a boulder and tossed a few stones into the lake. 

"Naw, that's OK. Maybe some other time." He stuffed his good hand in his pocket and stood before the boulder, kicking the dirt with his foot. A few minutes passed, Jimmy not seeming to notice he was even there, before Blair made a decision. He scrambled up on the big rock and scooted close to his friend. Resting his broken arm on the older boy's thigh and looking out over the lake, Blair spoke quietly. 

"I'm sorry, Jimmy." Out of the corner of his eye Blair saw him clench his jaw and look away. "Will you tell me about it?" 

He waited several seconds while Jimmy got himself together, before turning to look at him. "You can tell me, you know. I know all about the bad stuff." 

Jimmy looked into the boy's wise eight-year old eyes and had no doubt it was true. Blair will listen, he thought to himself. Blair is safe. 

"My dad said I couldn't go with you and Darren to the game on Saturday." 

"What?! He promised!" the little boy yelled. "That's not fair. Why does he have to be so mean to you?" 

When his friend didn't answer, Blair asked "Why?" 

"Stephen's friend Bobby spilled a soda on the sofa and blamed it on me. When I denied it, he called me a liar, said I couldn't go and sent me to my room. I left instead." 

"That's bad, Jimmy," Blair scolded. 

"I know." 

"What's he gonna do when you get home?" 

"Probably lock me up in the dungeon," he answered sarcastically. 

After a minute Blair responded. "He'll chain you to the wall with no water." 

"Feed me to the dragon," Jimmy added, trying to make himself and Blair feel better. 

"Piece by piece?" Blair asked excitedly. 

"Of course. Starting with my eyes." 

"Then what?" the boy asked, bouncing up and down. 

"Definitely my tongue," he mumbled around his fingers as he pretended to pull out his tongue. 

"Cool, then what?" the little boy asked, rubbing his hands together wickedly. 

"My heart," Jimmy replied evilly, wriggling his eyebrows. 

Blair sobered suddenly and took his friend's face in his hands and looked deep into the pale blue eyes. 

"No, Jimmy. That part belongs to me." 

The teen was stunned speechless for a moment, not daring to believe that his most secret wish had just been voiced. His smile faded into a pained expression. 

"Right, Jimmy?" the younger boy asked nervously. 

Jimmy swallowed hard, his heart pounding as his lungs barely dragging in enough air. 

"Say it's true! Please?" The little voice was desperate and the fingers gripped Jimmy's face painfully. 

"Yes, Blair. It's true. I promise." 

Blair sighed heavily in relief and dropped his head on the bigger boy's shoulder. Jimmy wrapped his arms tightly around him for a moment then turned him to rest against his chest. Together they sat looking out over the lake. 

A few hours had slipped by when Jimmy heard Blair's stomach rumble. "We should go now. It's time for dinner and your mom will worry," Jimmy said as he nudged the boy gently. 

They were silent all the way back, but as they approached the walk leading to the house, Blair turned to the older boy and quietly asked, "Will you stay at my house? Darren can talk to your dad, make it better for you." 

"You know that'll only make him madder." 

"I don't want you to go, Jimmy. I'm scared." 

"I'll be fine, buddy." He smiled at Blair and ruffled his hair. 

"Jimmy..." Blair's young voice pleaded. 

"Gotta go now, Chief. Don't worry." Jimmy moved his hand to the boy's face and cupped his cheek, smiling softly, lovingly, then turned and headed across the street to his house. 

"I love you, Jimmy," Blair said quietly. He watched his friend walk away feeling like this would be the last time he would see him. 

+++ 

"How is he?" 

The concerned voice broke into Simon's thoughts, pulling him away from the story that had momentarily stopped again. He looked down at his friend and wanted to cry again. Blair was pale and his sweat-drenched hair was tangled with dirt and debris. He only moaned now, his fists clenching spasmodically in pain. "I wish I knew, Dave. It doesn't look too good, though." 

"The bleeding's stopped," the clerk pointed out. 

Simon gave him a tired smile and Dave asked cautiously, "That doesn't really matter now, does it?" 

Banks only shook his head. 

"His legs?" 

Simon sighed and replied, "Still nothing in the right and the left isn't as responsive as before." 

Suddenly Blair jerked upright, screaming in pain and Simon grabbed his shoulders as he tried to ease him back onto his lap. 

"Blair," Banks soothed. "Easy kid. It's OK. You're going to be OK. Just settle down." 

Blair struggled against the hands holding him and screamed, "NO! Leave him alone!" 

+++ 

"NO! Leave him alone!" Blair screamed as his small fists pounded on the heavy wooden door. He could hear Jimmy's father yelling. He was yelling terrible things and then the boy heard a crash and he pounded harder. 

"Stop it! Stop it!" 

And then two strong hands were on him, pulling him, dragging him away from the Ellison front door, across the street, and back into his house. 

"Blair, you can't," Darren said sternly. "You have to stay out of this. That man is his father." 

The young boy only struggled and broke free. "No, Jimmy!" he yelled as he ran up the stairs into his room. At the window, he stared across the street and the light came on in Jimmy's room and the teen was roughly pushed in. Tears coursed down his cheeks and he pounded the glass again. When the door was slammed shut, Blair's hands dropped and he froze in fear. Behind him he felt his mother's arms come around him and felt her kiss on his hair as she tried to pull him away from the tragedy being played out a few hundred feet away. 

"Maybe we should call the police," Naomi suggested quietly as her little boy kept his vigil. 

"No, Naomi. It's not our business." 

Blair picked up the sounds of the adults talking behind him, followed by the sound of the door closing softly. He wiped at the tears that clouded his vision and whispered, "Jimmy? Please get up. Please?" 

He waited, as the minutes ticked by, and he silently prayed and cried before finally hating himself into sleep. He felt so useless. 

He awoke sometime later feeling a pull at his mind, urging him to wake. He sat up immediately and turned to look at Jimmy's window and knew nothing then except the desperate need to keep his friend safe, to never let him be touched by pain ever again. And his small 8-year-old heart took this need and told Blair what he now needed to do. 

Across the street, Jimmy was sitting by his window, the dim light silhouetting him as he mirrored Blair's position. As one they lifted their left hands and placed them against the cold, hard windowpane. 

"I'll save you, Jimmy. I love you." He watched as Jimmy nodded and smiled weakly, then turned away. A moment later, the light went off and the room was flooded with darkness. 

"Blair? Sweetie, are you OK?" He turned to find his mom holding a plate. "I brought you some cookies." When he didn't move, she put the plate down on the dresser and held out her arms. The boy ran into them, hugging her as tightly as his small arms allowed, and Blair was suddenly very glad that she was his mom: she never even complained when his cast hit her in the head. 

"He's going to be OK, Blair. He's strong and he's good and he has you for a friend. Be there for him, make him laugh. That's what he needs." 

"'K mom. I will." 

+++ 

"I will," Blair mumbled and Simon quietly responded "Yes, Blair, you will. You always do." 

A shrill ringing jerked the men out of the spell the sad tale had woven around them and Simon frantically searched for Blair's backpack. When he found it, he roughly yanked the zipper open and grabbed the phone. 

"Jim?!" he shouted into the cell. 

"Simon?" the detective replied, sounding very confused. "Why are you...Shit. Is he OK? Let me talk to him." 

Jim was frantic and Simon couldn't blame him, but he needed to shut the man up before their luck ran out and Sandburg's phone died or the crackly connection was lost. "Ellison!" he shouted into the phone. "Listen to me. We're at Christie's. It's on Morgan Street just past 22nd. We're trapped downstairs, basement level. We need help now. Get an ambulance. Got that?" 

"Yes, Sir. I'm sending help now." In the background, Simon could hear Rafe respond to the relayed information. "I'm on my way, too," Jim said in his best professional voice. Then he broke and choked out "How is he, Simon. Please tell me he's not dead." 

"No, Jim. He's alive but he's bad. His legs are trapped under a beam, he's lost some blood, and he has a fever that keeps spiking. He's unconscious now." 

"Tell him, if...when he comes around...tell him." 

"Sure, Jim." 

Four hours later... 

Simon sat on the under-stuffed couch, watching his friend stare out the window. One arm was folded across his chest while the fingers of his other hand tapped rhythmically against his lips. He'd been standing like that for the last three hours and if not for the tapping and the occasional flicker of emotion that skittered across his face, he would have sworn that Jim had zoned. Then again, what did he know about all this Sentinel stuff anyway. Maybe this was a new kind of zone. Just in case it was... 

"Jim? You still with me?" 

"I'm OK, Simon. I'm listening." 

"Oh. Uh, listening to what?" he asked, paling at the thought of being able to hear what was happening behind the doors of the emergency room OR. 

"His heart, to his blood pumping. As long as I can hear it, I know he's going to be OK." Jim's head whipped around toward the door and he said, "The doctor's coming out." 

Simon stood and waited for the doctor to enter the waiting room and approach them. 

"Detective Ellison?" 

"I'm Ellison. This is Captain Banks. How is Blair?" Jim asked, shaking the doctor's hand. 

"Well, his right femur is broken, but it was a clean break so it was easily repaired." 

"What about feeling? He lost feeling in that leg," Simon asked. 

"A nerve was pinched between the bone and the beam but it wasn't damaged. He should regain all feeling very soon." 

"Yes," Jim whispered "Can I see him now?" 

"As soon as he gets out of recovery." 

"Thanks, Doctor," Simon replied as he watched Jim turn back to the window and resume the tapping. His mind finally registered the rhythm of the tiny movements was rather like a heartbeat. Blair's, no doubt. He turned back to the doctor who was still speaking. 

"...is only a concussion. The x-rays show no damage to his skull and the brain swelling is decreasing already, so we're not worried. Someone will be by shortly to let you know where his room will be." 

"Thanks, Doctor," Simon said as they shook hands. At the doctor's worried glance in Jim's direction, Banks shook his head and smiled. When the other man turned to go, Simon approached his friend. 

"His head's OK, Jim." 

"Yeah, I know." 

"Come on, Jim. Sit down before you fall over." Banks led him over to the sofa and gave a slight push. Jim followed the movement and landed with a whoosh on the cushions and the tapping resumed. Now that they had the news of Blair's condition and more time to wait, Simon decided this was a good time to ask Jim about the story Blair had told. 

"He scared me, you know. At the end, he was pretty bad off." 

Jim only nodded. 

"He wanted to know if I'd found you. He said he was waiting for you to come say good-bye. He said Jimmy promised." 

The tapping stopped suddenly and Simon watched with interest as Jim closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Then he turned to smile shyly at Simon. "He said 'Jimmy'?" 

"Yes." 

"Not 'Jim'?" 

"Definitely 'Jimmy'. He called you that a lot. It was you, wasn't it?" 

Jim dropped his head back on the sofa back and laughed. "He does remember." 

"So all that was true?" Simon asked, totally confused. 

Jim looked over at him cautiously and asked "All what, sir?" 

"Kip, the lake...your dad." 

Sobering for a minute, Jim frowned then relaxed and frowned again. "Yeah. It's all true." 

Damn. Just what he needed, more stuff to deal with. What was with these two, anyway? Taking a hold of his courage, Simon jumped in with both feet: "I thought you met four years ago at the hospital?" 

"Yes and no." 

"Detective Ellison? Mr. Sandburg has been moved to room 212. You can see him now," the voice of a matronly nurse stated, giving Jim time to figure out just what he was going to tell his captain. 

A few minutes later they quietly entered Blair's room and settled in to wait for him to wake up. Jim pulled a chair close to the bedside and Simon made himself comfortable on the wide windowsill. 

"Jim," he said quietly, after a few minutes of watching his friend watch his love. "We've got some time here so why don't you tell me what's going on." 

For the next forty-five minutes Jim answered Simon's questions and filled in any blanks. Simon's reverence for his best teams' relationship grew by the minute. 

"God, Jim. I never realized it was that bad with your dad." 

"If it wasn't for that little boy, this little boy may never have made it." Simon didn't know what to say to that so he asked, "Why haven't you two ever mentioned this before?" 

Jim opened his mouth to answer when Blair spoke, his voice raspy and sleepy. Jim had been so engrossed in the past that he failed to notice his friend was awake. 

"Car accident...week after we left...lost some time. I'm sorry." 

Jim brought Blair's hand to his lips and kissed the palm. "Doesn't matter any more, Love." 

"Your heart's still mine, right Jim?" 

"Yeah, it is. Pop never did manage to feed that part to the dragon." 

Blair laughed a little, then sighed. "Love you, Jimmy." 

"Me too, kid. Me, too." 

Simon quietly slipped out the door and drove himself home. 

Epilog: 

One week later Blair lay on the sofa wrapped in the afghan with his leg propped on Jim's lap, when a knock sounded at the door. 

"Are you expecting someone?" Jim asked as he carefully moved out from under the plaster-encased leg and went to open the door. 

"Yes?" he asked of the delivery boy who stood with a package in one hand and a clipboard in the other. 

"Delivery for Blair Sandburg. Sign here." 

Jim took the package, passed the signed forms back to the kid, and then mumbled "Thanks." 

"It's for you, Chief," he said as he dropped the small box on Blair's lap then settled himself on the coffee table. "Well?" 

"I don't know what it is. Did you send me this?" he asked as he carefully examined the wrapper from all angles. 

"Should I have?" Jim teased. 

"Probably. Aren't I supposed to be showered with gifts and attention?" 

"Well, seeing that I have been waiting on you hand and foot, when exactly would I have found the time to get you a gift, smart ass?" 

"Whatever," Blair replied dismissively as he continued to turn the package in his hands. 

Jim laid a hand on Blair's, stilling the movement and smiled encouragingly. "Open it," he said softly. 

Blair nodded and tore the paper away. He frowned when he saw the box marked with the Christie's logo. Pulling off the attached card, he read: 

'Mr. Sandburg, 

I wanted to say that I'm glad you're OK and that I was very moved by your story. I hope the intended recipient of this gift loves you as much as your Jimmy did. And I hope that there is still time and this symbol is well received. Consider it my gift to timeless love. 

Dave' 

Blair cautiously looked up into Jim's unreadable face and gave him a hesitant smile. His eyes darted back to the small box, then gathering his courage, gently placed it in Jim's lap. 

The other man's hands shook as he moved to pick up the box. His breath was held deep inside his lungs and his heart thudded painfully against his chest as he struggled not to jump to any conclusions. Slowly opening the box, he lifted out a very heavy and obviously expensive watch. 

"Holy shit, Blair. You were going to buy this for me?" 

Blair only nodded. 

"Why?" Jim asked, awed by the mere thought of Blair using his meager resources on a gift for him. 

"Because my heart finally convinced my head that it was time. This past year has been very different, good different, but definitely different. And I guess I needed to get with the program before I missed it completely." 

Jim chuckled at Blair's convoluted admission of love then held out the watch so his love could put it on him. "You wouldn't miss it, Baby. I'd keep after you forever, if necessary." 

Blair took the watch and was about to slip it over Jim's hand when he noticed there was an inscription. Looking closely, he read it then showed it to his mate. Jim read it and grinned as Blair locked the clasp into place on his left wrist and pulled Jim into a hot and hungry kiss. 

When they came up for air, they repeated the inscription that was now their mutual pledge: "True love is timeless." 

end 

* * *

End 

Timeless by OCONN: j804gdt@verizon.net  
Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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